


The Weight of a Name

by Runic



Series: The Meaning of a Name [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Assassination Attempt(s), Childhood Trauma, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Racism, Trust Issues, Worldbuilding, violence against a child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-01-22 16:56:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21305432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Runic/pseuds/Runic
Summary: One decision can change the course of nations. When King Mahtab brought home a baby from Fódlan, he gave his own son someone to stand at his side.Byleth grows up side by side with Claude, surviving the hardship of Almyra together. For each, they are the other's only friend.Discontinued
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Series: The Meaning of a Name [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1536014
Comments: 73
Kudos: 430





	1. 1162

**Author's Note:**

> Because again, I have no self control, have the first part of my NaNo story I'm working on. 
> 
> This is technically the second part of the series. I will be doing a prologue for it as well dealing more in depth with Claude's parents.

Byleth stared out at the glittering capital city of Almyra, looking much too stern for a child of two years old. There was a flurry of activity when normally the city’s inhabitants would just be waking. And the bells, they were ringing nonstop, from the royal tower in the palace to the people marching in the street. Bells of music and peels of laughter filled the air.

It all made no sense. She had never seen people act like this even on festival days.

The small girl jumped down from the window and calmly walked toward her caretaker. She knew the servants found her strange, even at two that was something she understood. There was something about the way she carried herself, something that made her seem mature beyond her years, that unnerved other people. It was why Byleth preferred only to interact with Nader and Naima. 

“Naima,” Byleth spoke in her high pitched voice, her fingers moving to form the signs Naima needed to communicate. “What is going on?”

_ The prince was born this morning, _ Naima signed back to her. She was the only person who seemed to understand and accept Byleth’s strangeness. Byleth was well aware that Naima was not her mother, but she was the closest thing the little girl had to one. _ The bells are a celebration of his birth. _

Byleth thought that over for a moment, her face blank as she processed what Naima had told her. “That does not make sense,” Byleth finally responded. “Babies are born every day, and no one ever makes this much fuss.”

Naima smiled at her, amused by her comment. _ But not royal babies, Byleth. The prince is important. It means the king has an heir. _

“But why is an heir important?”

_ Because it means a chance at stability. _ Seeing Byleth’s confusion at the new word, Naima broke off to explain, _ When the current king either dies or gives up his throne, the prince will have the opportunity to prove himself worthy to take his place. If he is successful, the throne will go to him. If he is not, there will be fighting between the nobles as they each try to take the throne for themselves. _

“All the nobles do is fight between themselves,” Byleth pointed out.

_ True. _ Naima stood, setting aside the embroidery she was focused on before Byleth had distracted her. _ Come, I think Nader will be fine with us taking a break on such a momentous day. Let us go see what celebrations are going on in the city. _

Byleth slid her small hand into Naima’s larger one, allowing her caretaker to lead her from the estate and into the bustling crowds. 

Byleth supposed the new prince was good for something after all. At least she would not be forced to read any political theories today. 

/

The king returned to the capitol a week later to the joyful cheers of his populace. Some were calling it a prosperous sign that the prince was born on the morning of the king’s latest victory. But others, many of them discontented nobles who hated that King Mahtab had essentially married an enemy, were already fast at work spreading rumors of illegitimacy and weakness. 

Not that Byleth was aware of any of that. Such things were not the concern of a child of only two years old. 

No, what concerned her about the king’s return was the subsequent return of her other caretaker. Nader rushed into Naima’s rooms and swept up the young girl just as he did every time he returned home. 

“Look at how big you’ve gotten!” Nader laughed, sitting Byleth on one of his shoulders.

“I have not gotten bigger. It’s only been a month,” Byleth pointed out.

Nader paused and shook his head. “But I see you’re just as serious. Have you kept up with your training?”

“Yes.” For an instant there seemed to be a hint of joy in Byleth’s usually monotone voice. 

_ She gave Kasra’s boy a black eye, _Naima signed.

Nader’s face lit up all over again as he watched his sister’s fingers form words, bursting out in another belly laugh as she finished. “Did you now? He’s what, six years old and twice your size? How’d you manage that?”

“I hit him,” Byleth answered succinctly. 

Nader shook his head again. “That is usually how one wins a fight.”

Byleth knew she confused the big man, but besides Naima, he was the only one who made an effort to understand her. And he was the one teaching her to fight, so Byleth rather enjoyed when the loud man was around. 

_ Are we expected at the palace? _Naima asked, changing the subject.

“Tomorrow, not tonight. The king wants tonight to spend with his queen and newborn son. There will be a feast tomorrow we’ll be expected to make an appearance at.”

_ And Byleth? _

Nader thought for a moment, tilting his head to look at the child on his shoulder. “I don’t see why she can’t come. I think it’ll do her good to meet the new prince.”

Byleth’s eyes narrowed, the closest she ever came to expressing her displeasure. They narrowed further when she caught Naima’s next comment.

_ Good, that gives me time to get her something to wear. _

Byleth clung tightly to Nader even as he pulled her off his shoulder. “Come now, Byleth, it won’t be so bad.”

Byleth gave him a deadpanned look, silently telling him she did not believe a word of that. 

/

Byleth was not impressed with the new prince. He was a baby, just like every other baby. She did not see what was so special about the wrinkled little thing. The queen beamed down at her child, her attention only leaving him whenever her husband came back to her side. 

Queen Odette had greeted her warmly enough when Nader led her forward, and even seemed amused as Byleth studied the baby. “Is the prince not to your liking, Byleth?” the queen asked in a teasing tone.

  
  


Byleth looked up to her, and then back down to the baby. “He’s so squishy,” was the answer she decided on.

King Mahtab and Nader both threw their heads back and laughed. Other courtiers joined in, but these were not false laughter. The people surrounding them were the king’s closest friends and advisors, those Mahtab trusted above all others. They were those who laughed with the king, and not to win his favor. 

Of course, Byleth only barely grasped that concept. She realized that the royal couple seemed more relaxed than any other time she had seen them, and Byleth found the entire experience strange. Besides, she was distracted when the baby opened his eyes. They were a brilliant shade of green, one Byleth had never seen before. 

She leaned over the baby, trying to get a better look. The prince blinked up at her for a moment before cooing happily, and he began to squirm in his mother’s arms.

Odette smiled down at her son, and traced a finger over the bridge of his nose. “It seems like Claude likes you.”

“You’re really calling him Claude?” she heard Nader whisper to the king.

“I can’t convince her otherwise,” Mahtab answered, fondness in his voice as if he was sharing a joke with his friend.

After that, the queen allowed Byleth to sit next to her, but was pretty much forgotten about by the adults and older children. The adults talked over her, trading jokes and jabs about topics Byleth had no idea how to place. She absentmindedly swung her legs back and forth, ignoring the occasional whisper about what a strange child she was. 

After a few hours, Odette handed over the prince to one of her handmaidens. There was a flash of hatred in the woman’s eyes that seemed to go unnoticed by the adults in the room. But Byleth knew that look. It was the one the noble children gave her because she was an orphan from Fódlan.

Byleth slid off the chair and followed the woman. No one noticed her, not even the woman as she placed Claude in his crib. She unfolded a fresh blanket, and looked over her shoulder. But Byleth, hiding behind the crib, was the only one paying her any mind. The handmaid pulled a vial from her skirts, her actions hidden from the royal couple by her own body. Byleth watched as she popped off the cork on the vial and spread the powdered contents on the blanket. 

The woman picked up the blanket by sliding her hands under it, careful not to touch the top. Warning bells went off in Byleth’s head as the woman turned to the prince. That look in her eyes, it wasn’t one someone who was supposed to care for another should have. She looked so angry.

Byleth did not really think about what she was doing. Before the woman could drop the blanket onto the newborn baby, Byleth pulled her leg back and kicked the woman’s shin as hard as she could. 

The woman cursed loudly, the rest of the room fell silent, and dropped the blanket. She cursed again and clasped her hands together, eyes blazing as she turned to Byleth. 

“Byleth,” Nader’s voice cut through the silence, “why would you do that?”

She felt his presence behind her, acting as a bulwark between her and the hostility many of the courtiers were directing her way. “She put something on the blanket,” Byleth said. It was as if she sucked all the air out of the room. Every adult went rigidly still. 

“It was simply powder to help his skin from drying out,” the woman protested. She moved her hands behind her back, obviously wringing them together. Her face was twisting as she tried to hide her pain, but she was failing miserably. 

Nader stepped around Byleth and grabbed the woman, ignoring her cry of pain as he dragged her hand forward. Already the flesh was turning red and starting to crack. It looked incredibly painful.

Mahtab stepped around his wife, carefully picking up the blanket with gloved hands. His face was blank as he turned toward her, but he radiated hatred hot enough that Byleth shrank behind Nader to hide herself. 

“Why?” was the one word question Mahtab asked, the weight of the woman’s life hanging by that word. 

The woman’s face twisted as she gave in to her hatred and pain, and she spat at the king’s feet. “You should be ashamed,” she hissed. “You dare taint the throne with a Fódlan whore, and now you give us a prince tainted by her weakness for an heir! We will never accept such a creature as that-” she jerked her head toward the crib where the baby was still sleeping, “-on the throne.”

Mahtab took a deep breath, studying the blanket he held. The entire room held its breath when he finally opened his mouth. “My son will be the greatest king to ever sit upon Almyra’s throne. But of course, you won’t be around to see that.” He moved forward, the woman’s eyes widening in fear as he raised the blanket, and wrapped the poisoned fabric around her face.

Byleth clung to Nader’s leg as the woman screamed. It did not last long. The contact poison tore through her skin, causing her to convulse in the king’s grasp. The sounds she made as her throat and face were destroyed were terrifying. Mahtab did not flinch. He held her there until the woman stopped moving, until those distorted screams died away. Only then did he let the body fall to the floor.

His eyes were softer when he turned to Byleth. Mahtab leaned down, a tight smile on his lips as he addressed her. “You saved my son, Byleth. I owe you a debt, little one. Thank you.”

Byleth shook her head, leaning into Nader’s comforting touch as she continued to try and hide herself behind him. She did not like being the center of attention. Mahtab nodded once more before he straightened, barking orders at guards and servants. Byleth was quickly forgotten by everyone besides her caretakers.

Nader picked her up, holding her close as the room erupted into a flurry of activity. “You did good, Byleth,” he whispered to her. “I’m proud of you.”

Naima was quick to reach her brother’s side, taking the small girl from him. “I’ll need to help Mahtab with his investigation. Can you take Byleth home?”

Naima nodded, holding onto Byleth tighter than she usually did. Naima was scared, and Byleth was not sure why. Surely the danger was passed now that the woman was dead. 

Byleth gave one last look over Naima’s shoulder to the tiny prince, meeting his bright green eyes before he began to bawl. 

He was certainly noisy for such a small thing. How did those tiny lungs make cries that loud?

/

“Naima?” Byleth said and signed as her caretaker began to tuck her in for the night.

_ Yes, Byleth? _Naima signed back when Byleth offered no other words. 

“How did the king know my name?” Byleth asked. It had bothered her ever since Mahtab addressed her. “He was not beside the queen when I introduced myself to her.”

Naima hesitated, something flashing across her face that Byleth was too young to understand. _ Nader is the king’s best friend, _ Naima signed, her fingers fumbling over the words as she attempted to sign too fast. _ As his ward, it is only natural that you would come up in conversation from time to time. Now, it is time for bed. _

Byleth let Naima tuck the blankets in around her, and closed her eyes. Seemingly satisfied, Naima blew out the candles, her skirts swishing around her as she walked out of the room. Byleth waited until the sound of Naima’s footsteps faded away before throwing the covers off and slipping out of bed. She pulled a chair to her window, climbing on it to stare out at the palace.

It was a logical explanation, but for the first time in her short life, Byleth felt like she had been lied to. It did not sit easy with her. There was something about the king that made Byleth feel connected to him. When he had talked to her it was too familiar. It was almost the same way Nader talked to her.

Byleth did not like it, but she had no idea what to do about it. So instead she settled for staring up at the stars, watching the constellations wheel overhead until she drifted off to sleep. She was vaguely aware of Nader picking her up and tucking her back into bed, whispering goodnight before she drifted out of consciousness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know guys. I know this is a weird story. Let me know what you think, and if it's worth continuing.


	2. 1167

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I really appreciate your support! I hope you guys like this chapter too.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: violence against a child.
> 
> Edits: I took out the terms 'half-breed' that Keveh originally used to insult Claude. It was pointed out that these terms, even in a negative light were not exactly appropriate. This story will be dealing with the racism that Claude faced in his childhood, and I will be doing my best to deal with the topic sensitively, but if I ever write something that does not, then please let me know so I can fix it. I am doing my best, but I won't pretend I don't have more I need to learn/become aware of. My apologizes to anyone I offended.
> 
> I have also added the racism tag to the story.

1167

Claude hated his cousin. 

No, that word was not strong enough. He loathed the older boy. His legs ached as he ran, weaving in and out of the market stalls as he tried to lose the small gang chasing him. Usually such a task was no issue for him. He could dodge through the crowd without issue, putting the throng of people between him and his pursuers. Today, it seemed, he was not so lucky. 

He heard the shouts behind him, alerting him that the other children were closing in. Claude feinted to the right, dodging behind a basket of figs before circling back around, hoping to end up behind his pursuers and lose them by going in the opposite direction. 

His hopes were dashed when a shadow stepped in his way. Claude ran head first into the bulky body, unable to change the direction of his momentum before he realized what was happening. Keveh grabbed onto the collar of his shirt before Claude could fall backwards. Claude twisted in Keveh’s grip, trying to yank himself free, but Keveh just held on tighter, lifting Claude’s shirt so that he was forced to stand on tiptoe or be choked by the cloth.

“You can’t keep using the same tricks and think you’ll get away with it, coward,” Keveh taunted, triumph ringing in his tone. 

Claude called him a rather nasty name in return, trying to twist out of his shirt so he could escape. His shirt was an acceptable sacrifice at this point. 

“Now, that’s just rude. We’re going to have to teach you some manners, you pathetic little weakling.” Keveh dragged Claude along, still holding him too high for Claude to get much traction on the ground. Keveh’s goons closed in around them, cutting off both Claude’s escape and hiding him from the sight of anyone who might interfere. 

Claude cursed again, a word no five year old should know, let alone say, as Keveh threw him to the ground. The marketplace had given way to an alley. Keveh was not very creative in his beatings. 

Claude saw the first punch coming, and ducked low, causing Keveh’s fist to impact with the stone wall behind Claude. Keveh cursed, his face twisted with spite and fury as he looked down at his younger cousin. Keveh was only four years older than Claude, but he had already proven himself capable of enacting terrible acts in the name of justice. According to him, Claude’s entire existence was an affront to the kingdom.

Two of the other boys, from noble families who had grown much too close to Claude’s uncle in the past years for his father’s liking, boxed him in. With nowhere to go, Keveh’s next punch landed squarely across Claude’s jaw. 

Claude went down hard, curling into a ball as the three boys began to kick at his face and stomach. One landed a particular vicious kick against his kidneys. Claude cried out, unable to hide the pain that raced through his body. The boys above him just laughed.

And then Claude heard something unexpected. A boy and a girl stood guard at the entrance to the alley, preventing anyone from interfering with Claude’s beating. It was all typical for this type of event. But they both cried out, one in pain, the other in surprise. 

The legs stopped kicking him, letting Claude see that the boy was lying on the ground. He watched as the girl quickly joined him, another girl, maybe two or three years older than himself, standing over them. Despite her obvious young age, she looked like vengeance personified. Her face was blank as she approached the three boys that, until a moment ago, had been beating on Claude’s small frame. There was a training sword in her hand, blunted but still dangerous in the right hands. And it seemed hers were the right ones. 

“This doesn’t concern you,” Keveh said, trying to keep his tone light. It didn’t work. The annoyance he felt at being interrupted was clear, and the avenging angel tilted her head, eyes narrowing at his words. She did not say anything as she took another step toward them.

The boy closest to her stepped forward, but she dodged, letting him fly past her. Keveh and the last boy started forward, but Claude grabbed onto Keveh’s ankle, sinking his teeth into his cousin’s leg. Keveh cried out and cursed, thrown off balance long enough for Claude to get to his feet again. He punched Keveh’s diaphragm, just like Nader had shown him. Keveh cursed again, Claude’s punches not yet strong enough to take down the older boy. 

Keveh was on top of him, hands clawing at Claude’s neck and face. All pretense of the charming manipulator was gone, and what loomed above Claude was a monster in human form. Claude kicked and punched blindly, having no idea where his hits landed, only focusing on trying to get Keveh off of him.

Hands grasped around Claude’s throat, Keveh’s lips splitting into a grin that would haunt Claude’s nightmares for years to come. He looked demonic in that moment, as he began to choke the life out of the younger boy.

And then he simply wasn’t there. Claude scrambled back, seeing Keveh in a heap on the opposite side of the alley. The girl stood between them, her training sword still pointed in Keveh’s direction. “Leave,” she ordered. The word was so final, a tone Claude had only ever heard from his mother and father when they issued a decree, that there was no room for argument. 

Keveh and his friends slowly got to their feet, picking up the boy at the entrance who was clearly unconscious. “This isn’t over,” Keveh growled, although Claude couldn’t tell if he was speaking to him or the girl protecting him.

“Get a line that makes you sound less like a villain,” Claude snapped back.

Keveh’s eyes flashed, and for a moment it looked like he might charge the woman to try and reach Claude again, but when she raised her sword a fraction higher, Keveh backed off. He gathered his friends and left to nurse his wounds, no doubt in Claude’s mind that he was already planning some sort of revenge for his humiliation. 

“I would have been fine,” Claude said, looking down at his shoes. “But thank you, all the same.”

The girl turned to him and blinked, the malice disappearing from her ocean blue eyes. It was as if she was almost surprised to see Claude standing there behind her. “You would not have been,” she pointed out matter of factly.

“Do you not know who I am?” Claude demanded, both curious and hurt. “I’m the prince! I’m supposed to fight my own battles. I shouldn’t have to rely on anyone in a fight!”

The angel tilted her head to the side, and for a brief moment what looked like confusion flickered in her eyes. “Who told you that?”

“My father,” Claude answered, going back to staring at his shoes.

“Well, that’s stupid.”

Claude’s head snapped back up, his mouth hanging open like a fish out of water. Had she just called the king stupid? “What?” Claude responded with, which he immediately mentally kicked himself for as it made him sound rather unintelligent. 

“If you’re the prince, that means your father is the king, correct?” At Claude’s nod the girl continued. “The king has an army to fight his wars. He has guards to protect him. Sure, he’s a great warrior, but he doesn’t fight every battle by himself.”

Claude had never thought about it like that before. That did make sense, but his parents had always told him that Claude would need to fight his own battles if he hoped to become strong enough to hold the throne.

“There were five of them, and only one of you,” the girl pointed out. “And all of them were bigger than you. It’s possible you could have taken out one of two of them, but there’s no way you could take on all of them.” Claude opened his mouth to defend himself, but the girl cut him off. “I’m not insulting you, I’m stating a fact.”

“But you took them all on!” Claude protested.

“Yes, but I am also older and bigger than you. I’ve had a few more years of training than you. And I assure you, I have a better trainer than any of those thugs,” she explained calmly. She sounded so much more mature than she looked, but then many noble children did given their high degree of education. Claude himself was already expected to be developing his own political skills, which included speaking eloquently. “Stay alive for a few more years, and you should be able to take them on your own.”

“I doubt I have a few years, not if the look on Keveh’s face was anything to go by.” Claude kicked at the dirt, silently cursing that he was so much smaller than his cousin. If only he was born a few years earlier, then he Keveh would be on even footing. 

The girl studied him, and Claude felt as if she was unfolding his entire soul to study. It sent a shiver up his spine. “You’ll just have to find a way to survive then.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder, Claude flinching at the weight on an already forming bruise. “Come on,” she said, gentler this time, “let’s get you cleaned up.”

And without question, Claude followed. She walked through the marketplace with confidence, her eyes sweeping from side to side looking for any danger. Claude wanted to do that. He wanted to hold his head high and walk knowing that he could handle any danger that threatened him. He stood in awe of the angel that had saved him, studying her every motion, desperate to learn how she held herself without fear.

/

“Seems like you’re lucky Byleth found you, kid,” Nader said.

Claude hissed as his trainer dabbed at a cut on his arm with a cotton swab coated in something foul smelling. It stung, but apparently that was how one knew it was working. “I didn’t realize she was your ward.”

“Yep!” Nader said, pride in his voice as he beamed at Claude. “And as soon as I think you’re ready, you’ll train with her too.”

Claude’s eyes widened. “I’m going to have to fight her!” He was both terrified, because he had seen what Byleth could do, and eager to test himself against her so that he could one day stand side by side with her. The quicker he learned, the sooner he would be able to do to Keveh what Byleth had done today.

Nader let loose a deep belly laugh, wiping a tear from his eye before he went back to bandaging Claude’s injuries. “Someday, but only when I say you’re ready. Byleth’s not someone you want to take on too early.”

“But I can learn from her!”

“Someday,” Nader repeated. “Until then, you learn from me.”

Claude studied his instructor for a brief second before nodding his acceptance. He had a renewed determination to learn. Sure, he wanted to protect himself from Keveh and those who hated him because of who his mother was, but now he had something to fight for besides survival. 

He would prove himself to Nader. And after that, he’d prove himself to Byleth. He would grow strong enough to watch her back in a fight. That was how he was going to pay her back for saving him.

/

“I think our little prince might have a crush,” Nader all but sang as he slid into a chair beside his sister. Naima’s face creased in worry, cutting short Nader’s laughter. “What? It’s cute.”

_ It’s dangerous, _ Naima signed. _ He is already hated because his mother is from Fódlan. What do you think will happen if he marries a woman from Fódlan as well? _

“It’s a bit soon to be talking about marriage,” Nader countered. “It’ll probably blow over long before they come of age.”

Naima did not look convinced.

“They’re children!”

_ And yet you are the one who brought up the topic of crushes. _

Nader threw up his hands in defeat. “Fine! I won’t mention it again!”

Naima sighed soundlessly, fingers ideally playing with the embroidery piece she had been working on before Nader interrupted her. _ If.... _ she began, her fingers spelling out her words uncertainly. _ If Mahtab thinks Byleth is influencing the prince, he may force you to get rid of her. _

Nader’s face softened, understanding his sister’s reticence. “He wouldn’t do that.”

Naima shot him another sharp look, her face hardening as she signed, her movements board line aggressive. _ He would. If Byleth threatened his throne, he wouldn’t hesitate to get rid of her. It’s the entire reason she is here. _

“She’s here as a protection to the throne,” Nader countered.

_ And that could easily change! _ Naima stood, throwing her embroidery to the side as she began to pace the room. _ I realize he is your friend, but the throne has changed him. _ Her motions were frantic as she paced, Nader missing a few words when she turned, but able to piece together her meaning. _ He has had to do terrible things to protect the throne, and Byleth was the start of all that. I fear for her everyday. If someone were to find out what Mahtab did- _

Naima cut herself off, turning to face Nader. There were tears on her cheeks as she sank to her knees before her brother. _ Do not let him take her from me, _ Naima begged. _ Whatever happens, don’t let him take my daughter from me. _

Nader took Naima’s hands in his own. They were so small within his own. Sometimes he forgot how delicate she was, and how harsh Almyra had treated her. “I won’t, Naima. No one will take Byleth from you. I swear it.”

Naima sighed heavily, her whole body relaxing. _ Thank you, Nader. _

He only hoped it was a promise he could keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kids are fucking hard to write guys. I can't wait for these two to grow up.


	3. 1169

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pedar - father (formal)  
Maman - mother (informal)

The entire city celebrated, decked in brightly colored ribbons with music echoing down every street. For the common folk it was a day off from labor, when the palace passed out free bread and ale, and they danced in the streets until the dawn’s light touched the golden city. For the nobility, it was nothing more than lip service.

Oh, they could smile and wish him well, but Claude knew there were plots of treachery and treason on those tongues. And it was because of him and his mother. His father’s throne hung by a thread because Mahtab had chosen to marry the woman he loved, and she just so happened to not be Almyran born. So while the nobility smiled, Claude thanked them for their attendance with all the regality a seven year old could muster, matching their toothy lies with his own. Even at this early age, Claude knew navigating his own birthday party was more dangerous than traversing a minefield.

He only let his guard slip once. When Nader and Naima entered, his eyes immediately sought out Byleth. Nader had increased Claude’s training regime, while Mahtab had hired more tutors to instruct his son in different subjects, which had left him with very little time. In the past year and a half he had only managed a handful of brief encounters with Byleth. It didn’t help that Nader rarely brought Byleth with him to court, but those conversations flowed so easily. Byleth, despite all the strangeness surrounding her, was the easiest person to hold a conversation with. She always had some insight that knocked him off his feet and intrigued him all at once.

But Claude still remembered their first meeting, still strove to match her strength. He hoped it would not be much longer now before Nader deemed Claude worthy to train with the older girl.

Claude did a double take when Nader moved, allowing him to lay eyes on Byleth. She did not look like Byleth at all. Naima had done up her long hair in a complex series of braids, piling them all on top of Byleth’s head, save the forelock at the side of her head. Not a hair was out of place, testament to Byleth’s unnatural patience. Claude was simply glad Almyran fashion only dictated he have one braid in his hair. He would have found some way to escape if he had to sit through all that.

The light pastels of her dress were dwarfed by the loud colors of the older women, the gossamer layers piling on color after color to make them all look like songbirds. It was currently the height of fashion in the court at the moment. Byleth skirts floated around her, split on each side up to the hip to reveal light cotton pants beneath. Typical to most Almyran fashion, the skirts were easy to move in, allowing the wearer the full range of motion of their legs should they find themselves in a fight.

Still, Claude had never seen Byleth in anything other than the casual cottons and leather armor Nader provided her. It made sense though that Naima, motherly and proper almost to a fault, would have put her foot down on that one. Byleth looked like a proper noble child, as strange as that was. He never actually considered Nader a proper noble before.

His mother’s hand landed gently on his shoulder, drawing his attention back to the proceedings. “Duty first, my sun. We are almost done now.” Her green eyes glittered like gems in the dying sunlight, laughing at his impatience. People always said he had inherited her eyes, but he thought hers were more lively than his. Perhaps one day, when he was as strong as her, he could pull off that mischievous little twinkle as well.

Claude nodded, and continued to greet the last of the nobles filing into the feast. Already there were loud cheers as the first round of a wrestling tournament began. Some nobles would be late as a show of disrespect, but no one would be late enough to miss the bouts. His uncle, Keveh hot on the older man’s heels, was the last to enter. Their greetings were tinged with teeth clenching politeness, before Keveh was swept away to join the others standing beside the fighting ring. 

“Now, my sun, you may go,” his mother told him.

Claude smiled at her, his grin a smaller version of her own, and slipped from the dais. He weaved his way through the assembled nobles, many distracted by fighting, gambling, drinking, dancing, or some variation of all four. His people certain did know how to throw a party. 

It didn’t take him long before he caught sight of Byleth’s teal hair, all done up in her pretty ribbons. Claude smirked as he began covering the distance to her, the noise of the crowd masking the sound of his approach. When she glanced over her shoulder, perhaps by chance or some supernatural sense Claude did not know she possessed, he ducked behind the legs of taller warriors. When they moved on, Claude cursed under his breath, seeing that Byleth had moved as well. Now he would have to find her all over again.

A tug at his head scarf yanked Claude’s head to the side. “Hey!” he shouted, eyes going wide as he was turned to stare at Byleth.

“Nader needs to work on your stealth skills,” she told him all too calmly.

“Or you just have unnatural powers you’re hiding from everyone,” Claude countered, hands flying to his head to fix the scarf. “And Nader is the last person to teach anyone anything about stealth.”

Byleth blinked at him, as if mulling over his words. It was a look Claude had grown used to whenever he talked to her. “I don’t think I do,” she said eventually.

Claude stared right back at her before shaking his head. She certainly was strange, but that didn’t matter right now. “Come on, I want to show you something.” He grabbed her hand, giving Byleth no chance to argue as they started back through the crowd.

They were at the edge of the terrace when a disgusted shout drew the attention of everyone in the immediate area. Claude grinned when he saw just who was throwing up the fuss. Basir was one of his father’s most prestigious generals, and the most talented when it came to naval warfare. He was responsible for defending Almyra’s northern coast. 

And Keveh had just thrown up all over his shoes. Basir looked at the boy in disgust, cursing again when he noticed sick on the hems of his pants as well. Keveh, for his part, looked torn between mortified and as if he would be sick again. In fact…

Claude bit his lip to hide his laughter as Keveh choked again, vomit spilling from between his fingers as he tried to hold it back, only to succeed in getting more of the disgusting substance on the general.

“Did you have anything to do with that?” Byleth asked softly.

Claude shrugged his shoulders, but Byleth looked far from convinced. “You told me to learn how to survive. Fighting can only take me so far.”

Byleth studied him for a long moment, that look that made it seem as if she were reading his soul. He theorized it was that look that made so many people uncomfortable around her. But Byleth simply nodded after a moment. “Smart.”

His heart leapt at the compliment, and more words spilled out of him before he could stop them. “I started reading one of the healer’s books on herbs. Most of the uses make no sense to me, but each entry comes with warnings.”

“And so you used those warnings to make something to upset Keveh’s stomach.”

“Yeah. I think Goli knows,” Claude said, naming his father’s spymaster. “I asked her a couple questions about dosage, but she won’t say anything.”

“Unless it’s too your father,” Byleth pointed out.

Claude waved it off. “If she mentions it to him, I can handle that. My uncle is giving him so much trouble lately, he’s probably glad Keveh just embarrassed their family. But that’s not what I wanted to show you. Come on.” He grabbed her hand again and dragged her away from the party.

He led her to a sitting room, one reserved only for the royal family and their invited guests. Sitting in the middle of the room upon a plush cushion, was a large white egg. “It’s my father’s present to me,” Claude explained. “It’s a white wyvern egg.”

“It’s large,” Byleth observed. “Normal wyvern eggs are half this size.”

“Have you not seen my father’s wyvern?” Claude asked, continuing when Byleth shook her head. “He’s massive. I’ll show him to you sometime. But this one is mine.” He reached out and touched the shell fondly, brushing his fingers against the rough surface. “I almost didn’t think he’d give me one.”

“Why not? You’ve worked very hard lately,” Byleth pointed out. She reached up a hand to touch the egg as well, pausing until Claude nodded his approval.

“Only kings have white wyverns,” Claude explained, his voice dropping to a whisper. 

“Do you want to be king?”

Claude blinked at her, stunned. No one had ever asked him that before. There never seemed as if he had a choice in the matter. He would become his father’s successor, or he....well, if he didn’t it was most likely because he was dead or in hiding. Claude did not like either of those options. But, did he want to be king?

Before he could answer, the egg rocked beneath their hands, a small crack forming in its surface. Both children yanked back their hands, eyes going wide as the crack got bigger. “It wasn’t supposed to hatch for a few more days!” Claude said softly, watching in awe as a piece of shell fell away. 

“I guess it takes after its master in the surprise category then.”

They sat together in silence upon an intricately woven rug after that, watching the slow process of the baby wyvern working its way out of the shell. There were flashes of white, and tiny ‘meep’ing noises as it worked its way free. He was so eager to meet his wyvern ( _ his wyvern! _ ), but Byleth’s presence beside him kept him from going to the egg and just ripping the shell away himself. His pedar had told him that it was something the wyvern had to do itself in order to build up its strength to survive.

“Claude! We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” his mother’s voice chastised, cutting through the silence. 

Both children’s head whipped toward her, Claude managing a somewhat guilty expression. “Sorry, maman,” Claude said. Despite the limited time he had spent with Byleth, he still felt comfortable enough to use an informal title with his mother in front of her. His mother, however, did not seem to think the same if the way her brows raised were anything to go by. “The egg started to hatch,” he hurried to explain, drawing her attention to something else entirely.

Odette’s gaze went to the wyvern egg, eyes melting at the sight of the almost freed creature within. She swept down to sit behind them, holding both children close as she joined their viewing. Byleth looked startled for the briefest of moments before settling herself at Odette’s side. 

“Well, I guess this is a worthwhile excuse for missing your own party. The hatching of your wyvern is a very important moment, my sun.” 

Claude loved when his mother was like this, when in the privacy of their own family she slipped off the mantle of queen and allowed herself to smile. She spoke to them of stories, telling a slightly different tale of the constellation of the wyvern than Claude’s tutors gave. Her earlier moment of disapproval at Byleth’s presence seemed almost nonexistent, making Claude wonder if he had imagined the whole thing.

The door opened again, and Claude glanced over to see his pedar and Nader silently enter the room. Taking in the scene, they seemed content not to interrupt the queen’s story, and found their own comfortable places to sit. 

The wyvern finally broke free from its shell, tumbling out with a loud cry. Claude rushed from his mother’s embrace to sweep the tiny thing up in his arms. It cried again, happily this time, as it snuggled against Claude’s chest. It tried to burrow into his shirt, seeking the warmth it had enjoyed inside its shell. Claude laughed as its tiny claws tickled his skin, turning to beam at his parents and friends. 

Mahtab nodded to his son, and Claude found himself blinking back tears at the simple gesture of approval. “Very good. He has imprinted on you. Now, it will be your responsibility to raise him until he is ready to join you in your training. He will be your companion in battle, so you must treat him well.”

“I will, pedar,” Claude promised, his voice coming out softer than he would have liked. 

Byleth once more reached out her hand, silently asking Claude’s approval before she attempted to touch the baby wyvern. “Careful,” Claude said, shifting it slightly and causing the dozing creature to make a noise of disapproval.

Byleth nodded slowly, holding her fingers in front of the creature's nose. It sniffed at her uncertainly, but when Claude took her hand and gently placed it against the top of the wyvern’s head, it seemed content enough. As it curled up again, purring happily at the attention, the corners of Byleth’s lips turned upward ever so slightly.

/

Nader joined his friend at the open window, looking out over a slow moving city. Many of the citizens were still in bed, nursing hangovers from yesterday’s festivities. Mahtab did not look up before he spoke, recognizing Nader’s loud footfalls. 

“It seems my son is getting on rather well with your ward.”

Nader paused, every instinct telling him he was walking into an ambush. “Can you blame him?” Nader asked. He tried to pick his words carefully, but politics were never his forte. “He’s young. He needs someone at his side.”

“Did you not see him last night? He’s latched onto her.” Mahtab’s voice quivered ever so slightly. Nader caught it only because he had known the other man for so long. It made Nader pause. His king was afraid.

“She might be good for him.” Nader paused, grabbing two cups from the table set up with refreshments behind the king, pouring them both a generous amount of chilled fruit juice. He practically forced a cup into Mahtab’s hands. “Byleth isn’t there problem here, is she?”

Mahtab took a deep breath, taking a sip of juice as Nader waited for his friend to gather his thoughts. “She’s part of it, but not all. I’m glad Claude has a friend, I am,” Mahtab said, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself rather than Nader. “But I’m worried her closeness will have...consequences. My brother is becoming more of a problem each day. I’m worried he’ll use Claude’s connection with Byleth against us.”

“Anyone with half a mind will dismiss that completely. Claude is still a child.”

“A child possibly being influenced by another woman from Fódlan, just like his father,” Mahtab snapped. Nader noticed the bags under his friend’s eyes, and silently wondered when the last time the king had actually slept. 

“She’s a child too!” Nader protested.

“It doesn’t matter,” Mahtab protested. “Those who wish me ill because I chose Odette will simply use it as another excuse.” 

Nader rested a hand on Mahtab’s shoulder, and the other man let his shoulders slump, allowing himself to show how his burdens affected him for once. It only made Nader more worried about Mahtab’s health. As soon as he was done here, he was going to go straight to Odette and work with her on getting the king some rest.

“And I’m worried that if she remains at his side, Rhea will find out about her. I don’t want that - that  _ creature _ to come after my son,” Mahtab admitted. “We could lose her so fast, and if Claude is attached to her…”

Nader’s hand tightened on his cup, the metal bending under his strength. “Over my dead body,” he growled. “I’m not going to give her up so easily. Rhea and Jeralt will have to fight me if they want to take her away.”

Mahtab relaxed for a moment before he fully processed Nader’s words. “Jeralt? Is he still looking for her?”

“There have been reports,” Nader said slowly, “of Jeralt and his Blades near the Throat. They’ve been asking questions about a baby with blue eyes and hair. Goli has planted some false leads, but it seems they are still operating out of Alliance territory. I don’t think he’ll ever truly give up trying to find her.”

They stared out over the city, Mahtab swirling his juice absentmindedly. “Perhaps we should have changed her name after all. Would have made it easier to hide her,” Nader said softly before draining his cup.

Mahtab shook his head. “I couldn’t do that. It’s the one thing Tess gave to her daughter. I couldn’t take that away from her. No, we’ll come up with something else.”

Well, that was something he did not quite know how to argue against.

Nader remained silent, watching as a smile started to form on the king’s lips. He followed his friend’s gaze, watching as Claude climbed a garden wall. His shirt moved, the white head of his wyvern poking through before he coaxed it back down. He jumped easily off the wall, and rushed off in the direction of Nader’s estate, unburdened by the fear of the future that plagued Nader and Mahtab’s morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know how last chapter I said I didn't like writing kids? Well, scratch that. Baby Claude is adorable. And so is Byleth with her freaking cute ribbons. Damn, I wish I could draw because that would be up so fast.


	4. 1170

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took forever. I couldn't quite make it feel right, so it got rewritten multiple times. And it's very long, so I hope that makes up for the wait. 
> 
> Now that we're actually out of NaNo, I'll probably be slower on updates for this story. I'm going to switch between updating this and History on Repeat (and whatever little one shots catch my attention, because let's be real, I get distracted super easily).

Moving from the summer palace back to the capital city was always more of a show than Byleth thought necessary. Under normal circumstances the trip would only take two or three days, one on the back of a wyvern, but with the entire royal entourage in tow the entire process took five days at the least. With the king deciding on the third day that pausing for a hunt was a sensible thing to do, it meant they would linger in the wilderness even longer. Byleth really did not wish to listen to the complaints of spoiled nobles longer than necessary.

Which was how she found herself off to the side of the proceedings, sharp eyes watching as nobles gossiped and drank, and servants rushed to refill those drinks and check provisions. Byleth did not feel as if she fit into either group, and wanted to join Claude. He would have some weird quip that would have Byleth fighting that odd sensation that made her want to smile. But Claude was mounted beside his father, taking a place of honor in the hunt. It was a wholly inappropriate place for a Fódlan orphan. His wyvern, almost a year old, was still small enough to fit on his shoulders, and had wrapped itself around Claude’s shoulders. Shamil watched the whole proceedings with the same annoyance Byleth felt.

Naima stepped into Byleth’s field of vision, drawing the young girl’s attention away from her friend.  _ You are not excited? _ Naima signed, the smile on her lips betraying her knowledge of the answer she would receive.

Byleth shook her head, the thick braid Naima had woven her hair into bouncing against her back. “No. This seems unnecessary. Look at Nader. He’s got that smile on his face, but it’s fake. He hasn’t set up security for this situation.”

Naima looked thoughtful, tapping a well manicured nail against her lips before she answered.  _ True, but we are also in the heart of Almyra. There is not much here to harm us besides ourselves, and that is a threat the king and Nader are both very used to looking out for.  _

Byleth still did not look satisfied. “I’ll feel better when we’re home.”

Naima sighed silently and shook her head.  _ If you are so worried, then once the hunt begins find your way to his side.  _

As Naima adjusted the bow on her back, Byleth blinked at her caretaker. “Where will you be?”

_ Where I always am,  _ Naima answered simply, her eyes drifting toward her brother.  _ Wherever he needs me. _

/

There were times Byleth hated being right. This was very much one of them.

The rampaging wyvern had come out of nowhere, screaming in pain and rage when it encountered the royal party. The bandits came next, cursing when they saw just who they had run into. They were bad actors. Byleth did not believe their ploy for a moment. But as to why they decided such a show was necessary was not the issue at the moment. 

No, Byleth was much more worried about the injured wyvern. Mahtab had placed himself between the creature and Claude, protecting his son from the first attack, but with the bandits joining in, the king’s attention was now divided.

“Claude!” Byleth charged toward her friend, pushing her way past the confusion the royal party had fallen into. Nader was shouting orders, quickly getting a handle on the situation. As many of the nobles were soldiers as well, they were falling into formation with a terrifying grace and swiftness. 

Claude glance for a brief second in her direction, but his focus was on the wyvern still going berserk at the head of the party. He drew his bow and knocked an arrow. Byleth saw him take a deep breath in, releasing half of it as he aimed, only fully exhaling as the arrow flew from his bow. 

The wyvern screamed in pain as the arrow sank into its open maw. It was an impressive shot, a wound that would kill over the course of a few minutes as the creature bled out, but the wyvern was so enraged it did not seem to realize its life blood was pouring out onto the ground below it. It screamed, snapping the arrow in half as it gnashed its teeth together, its attention now fully focused on the young prince.

Byleth sprinted forward, her legs aching with effort as she dodged hooves and blades that stood between her and her friend. She watched Claude pale as he reached for another arrow, but the wyvern was charging fast. By the time Claude had aimed his next arrow it would be too close. 

_ Please, please, please! _ Byleth had no idea who she was pleading with, no idea if anyone could actually listen. But beneath the sounds of battle, the screams as men died around her, Byleth could have sworn she heard someone yawn. 

She had no time to ponder it. Her legs pumped, putting on a speed that would have surprised anyone paying attention to her, and placed herself between the wyvern and Claude. Claude cried out, but Byleth’s sword was already raised. Her sword tore into the berserk creature’s neck even as its claw came crashing down onto her shoulder. 

Claude jumped from his horse, axe in hand, and rushed to her side. Byleth bit her lip to keep from crying out in pain when Claude grabbed her, attempting to pull her away, but the wyvern had just enough fury left to sustain it a moment longer. The creature’s tail swung around, catching both children and knocking them through the air, and right into the river the party had traveled alongside all morning.

Byleth scrambled as water closed in over her head, knowing that the scent of her blood in the water would attract predators. Claude. She needed to find Claude. Where was he?

Something wrapped around her, pulling at her. Byleth wanted to scream as the action aggravated her injured shoulder, but she saw the green of Claude’s tunic and kicked her feet, helping as he dragged them both to shore.

She breathed deeply when the water broke over her head, coughing and sputtering on the shore as Claude did the same beside her. 

“Ugh,” Claude finally managed, his voice hoarse.

Byleth shared the sentiment, but they did not have time for a break. “Come on,” she said, forcing herself to roll over and push herself to her feet. “We need to go.”

“Ugh,” Claude moaned again. After a moment though he too pushed himself up. Shamil poked his head out of Claude’s shirt, hacking and looking no better than his master.

“Do you still have your bow?” Byleth asked, eyes scanning their surroundings. The tall grass of the plains they were traveling through would be easy for someone familiar with the area to hide within, and not so easy for them. Plus, so long as they were near the river, there would be predatory animals to worry about as well.

Claude shook his head, stumbling a bit at the motion. Byleth reached out to steady him, hissing softly at the stress it put on her arm. “No, lost it in the river. And my axe as well it seems.”

Byleth thought rapidly. There was no telling how far away they had been swept downstream. The easiest way back would be to simply follow the river, but if there were more bandits, they were likely to be close to the only water source around for some miles. Claude without weapons was not good. Byleth without her sword arm was not good. She gritted her teeth and handed the sword over to Claude.

Her friend blinked at the weapon shoved into his hands before looking up at her in confusion. “Byleth?”

“I can’t use it with my arm like this,” Byleth said, nodding toward her shoulder. “But I still have my daggers. I’ll have an easier time using those in my off hand than I will the sword. And I’ve seen you practicing with Nader. You’ll do better with that than short blades.” The sword would also keep him at a longer reach from any enemy they might encounter. An adult could easily outreach Claude, but every little bit helped at this point. 

“All right,” Claude said softly, wrapping the sword belt around his waist. “Let’s get out of here.”

/

Mahtab clicked his tongue in disgust as he wiped his blade clean. The attack had been foolish and unorganized. In mere minutes the group of bandits were dispatched, their blood soaking the earth. Nader already had people moving the bodies away from the water so that the river would not become contaminated by their filth. 

He turned, intent to find his son, when the sound of more horses racing down the path toward them caught his attention. Mahtab readied his sword, Nader swinging his axe back into a ready position, as they turned to face whatever was coming. 

The sudden burst of adrenaline gave way to relief as he recognized Odette charging toward him on a bay mare. The rest of the royal entourage that had stayed behind at camp streamed behind her, all battle ready. Mahtab frowned when he saw blood on their weapons. 

Odette swung down from her horse, running the last few steps to her husband and quickly looking him over. “You weren’t hurt?”

Mahtab shook his head, doing his own once over of his wife. “What happened?”

“Goli had scouts near the wyvern breeding grounds that did not report back. She went to go check herself, and found her people dead,” Odette explained. “It seems the bandits were attempting to steal some of the royal herd, but only managed to piss them off. Goli saw the main group on her way back, heading toward you from behind. So, we came up from behind them before they could trap you.”

Mahtab smiled at her, wrapping an arm around her waist and kissing her quickly. “My beautiful warrior queen,” he whispered against her lips. 

Odette rolled her eyes, but did not push him away. Before she could say anything, however, Naima was beside them.  _ Where are they? _

Mahtab and Odette both frowned, heads whipping around to look for their son. There was only one ‘they’ Naima could be referring to. Mahtab’s heart pounded furiously in his chest as the seconds grew longer without sight of his son. “Claude!” he cried out. 

At his shout, several courtiers near him looked up in surprise, all seeming to realize that the prince was missing at the same time. The prince’s name was shouted, dead bodies moved aside to make sure he was not trapped. But Claude was nowhere, and neither was Byleth.

It was Naima who found Claude’s bow tangled in the reeds of the river bank. She had only to point before Odette was on her horse again, Mahtab not far behind. Behind him, Nader barked orders, splitting up trusted soldiers to join their king and queen.

Mahtab could only pray that wherever the river had taken them, they were together.  _ Protect my son, Byleth, _ he thought, so desperate it came out like a prayer.  _ Once more, please be by his side and protect him. _

/

“Byleth, we need to do something about your shoulder before we go any further.”

Byleth paused and looked at her wound, studying it with seemingly uninterested eyes before nodding. Claude let loose a quick sigh, glad he would not have to fight with her on this. Together they peeled back the material soaked in river water and blood. Shamil once more emerged from Claude’s shirt, making high little chirps of concern as the wound was revealed.

“Shh, Shamil,” Claude shushed the wyvern. There could easily be more bandits around, and they didn’t need that kind of attention right now. The wyvern whined once more before wrapping itself around Claude’s neck to sulk. 

“It’s not as bad as I thought,” Byleth said. She winced slightly as she poked at the three vertical gashes on her shoulder. “They’re not even really that deep.”

That was true, but the slow leakage of blood was still concerning. He took the waterskin from his hip and popped it open. He hoped he was doing this correctly. Healing had never really been a strong skill of his. 

“We don’t have anything to wrap it with,” Byleth pointed out.

Claude blinked, realizing she was right. All the had were the clothes on their backs and the two weapons Byleth had managed to hang onto. If they were out here for much longer they would need to find food, but Claude shoved that thought away. He needed to focus on Byleth right now. 

He handed her the waterskin and removed the scarf tied around his head. It was the least damp of all their materials. Claude reached out, and Byleth handed over her dagger without him having to ask. He cut a short length off, and used it to clean the gashes, pouring water over Byleth’s shoulder occasionally to help. The rest of the scarf was cut into a series of makeshift bandages that Claude did his best to wrap around the wound. The result was workable, but looked absolutely tragic.

He glared at Byleth as she fought back a smirk, the corners of her lips twitching upward. “Hey, I did my best,” he protested.

“You did,” Byleth agreed. “Thank you, Claude.”

Claude nodded and got to his feet. “We’ll need more water. I’ll be right back.”

Byleth’s face immediately became concerned, and she reached out with her good arm, her hand catching his. “Claude.”

“I’ll be fine,” Claude tried to reassure her, but he could tell the smile on his face was too forced. Byleth would see right through it. “The river is right over there. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Be careful. There’s most likely more than bandits in the area. And scavengers won’t be afraid to pick off a single child by himself.”

If anyone else said it to him, Claude would be offended. But this was Byleth, and he had grown used to her bluntness by now. Instead, he nodded to her. “I will.”

/

Shamil's surprised squawk was all the warning Claude had before someone was grabbing him by the hair and dragging him to his feet. 

"Well, well, look what we managed to find after all," a calm voice drawled. 

Claude immediately clawed at his attackers hands, but the man shook him hard enough to make Claude's teeth clash together. He tasted blood and the back of his mind noted that he had bitten his tongue. 

"Enough of that now." 

Claude finally looked up at the man who held him. He was tall, with fine features and dark hair. His black eyes glinted in amusement, like a snake who had cornered a rat, with a deep scar running across his cheek. His clothes were something a merchant would wear, not a bandit. 

As the man leaned in, Claude smelled a cloying sweetness, a scent he had only ever heard described before. He didn't look like a tribesman, but the two men flanking him certainly did.

Claude struggled anew, but the man slammed him into the ground. The riverbank gave way beneath the harsh blow, and Claude splashed into the water for the second time that day, landing on his back in the shallows. 

There was a cry of outrage from another of the men and the high pitched screech of a baby wyvern, but Claude had no time to focus on it. The obviously not a bandit jumped into the river after him, shoving Claude's head beneath the water. 

He struggled, arms flailing and feet kicking. He managed to break through the surface a few times, taking giant lungfuls of air, but mostly ended up with water in his mouth and up his nose. The riverbed churned beneath him, dirt clouding the water and stinging his eyes. 

When his fingers wrapped around something smooth and hard, Claude did not stop to think. He slammed the object into the side of his attacker's head. The man's hands loosened, allowing Claude to shove him back. 

He aimed what he could now see was a smooth river rock for the man again, but he raised his arms to deflect Claude's attack. A swift kick to his side sent Claude sprawling in the reeds. Different hands grabbed him, lifting him into the air. Claude continued to lash out, managing to connect with something solid. There was a spray of hot blood over his face before he was falling forward. He landed on top of his assailant, and hit him again and again with the rock, fear driving him on even after the body had stilled beneath him. 

Someone uttered a word Claude had never heard before, but based on its tone he could only assume it to be a curse. Another hand grabbed at him, smaller and shaking, trying to tear him away. Claude shouted, screamed in Byleth's face as she pulled him to her. His mind briefly registered that her right arm hung limp and useless at her side, and there was blood covering her left hand almost up to her elbow. Shamil was wrapped around her neck, and squeaked in fear at the harsh noise that ripped its way from Claude’s throat.

That unfamiliar word was repeated, Claude's eyes snapping to the first man who had attacked him. But the man was not looking at them. He was staring further up river. He shot one last glance at the two children, calculating eyes weighing the risks. Apparently deciding to cut his losses, the man turned to run.

Claude could hear them now, horses hooves pounding against the plains. An arrow flew by them, catching the man in the leg. He went down on one knee, unable to move with the shaft pierced through his muscles. He snapped the arrow in half, pulling it through injured flesh, but by the time he stood on unsteady legs, the horses were on them.

"Chain him," a voice barked, one used to giving orders that were immediately obeyed. "I want him tied to one of the spare horses and on his way back to His Majesty immediately."

Basir stopped his horse in front of Claude and Byleth, looking them over with a critical eye. Claude knew the general was traveling with them, but had not seen him up close since Keveh had thrown up all over his tunic last year. Now, with a weapon on his hip and a storm in his eyes, Claude saw why his enemies had taken to calling him Storm's Fury.

"Looks like you're in one piece. Are you hurt at all, little prince?"

Claude bristled at the blatant disrespect, but kept his temper. He nodded sharply, but Basir was already dismounting, his eyes locked on the body they stood next to. 

Another horse drew up in front of them, Naima leaping from the saddle. Her bow was still in her hand, the feathers in her quiver the same color as the arrow that had pierced the not bandit. She immediately swept both children into her arms, moving back only to look them over. 

_ Are you hurt? _ she signed to both of them.

Claude shook his head, while Byleth tilted her shoulder toward Naima with a blank face. Naima’s quick fingers checked over Byleth, her eyes hard as she removed the makeshift bandages. She stood straight and motioned for someone to join them, only stepping away from Byleth when a young man joined them and began to look her over. White light glowed around his fingers, Byleth’s flesh closing shut beneath his touch. 

_ And you?  _ Naima signed to Claude, genuine concern in her brown eyes.  _ Are you sure you aren’t hurt? _

Claude nodded. “No, Naima, I’m not hurt.”

“You can drop the stone, Your Highness.” Basir’s voice was still far from kind, but there was something resembling respect in it when he addressed Claude again. He stood from where he had been squatting next to body of the tribesman, stroking his perfectly trimmed beard as he regarded Claude. “Your first kill?”

Claude stiffened, but nodded. It would do no good to lie to someone like Basir about something like that. “Yes, sir.”

Basir stared a moment longer before nodding sharply. A heavy hand landed on Claude’s shoulder briefly, making Claude’s heart leap. It was a small sign of approval, but one that caught him completely off guard. 

And then the weight was gone. Basir’s voice boomed out once more. “Gather these bodies to take back with us. Five minutes, and then we leave.”

Claude found himself suddenly lifted up in the air, deposited on Basir’s horse before the man swung back up in the saddle. Next to him, Naima was doing the same with Byleth, the healer helping them due to her injured arm.

“Let’s get you back to your parents,” Basir said, his deep voice causing his chest to rumble against Claude’s back. “The Queen looked like she was about to scourge the entire plains if we didn’t find you soon.”

/

Mahtab reached them first, and if Claude was not so surprised, he would be annoyed that so many people were simply picking him up and dragging him around today. His father’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him off Basir’s horse. Claude found himself crushed against his father’s chest, Mahtab’s strong hand on the back of his head.

“Claude,” Mahtab breathed out, relief palpable in his voice. Claude could almost swear he heard the edge of a sob at the end of his name. It frightened him. “I was so worried.”

“Claude!” His mother’s voice echoed across camp, followed by the pounding of her feet as she ran toward them. “Claude!” Odette wrapped her arms around his husband and her son, pressing kisses to Claude’s forehead. 

He was at a complete loss. More than anything, his parents’ actions enforced what he had gone through. They had never held him like this before, never showed such concern. It was too much. He had survived an attack, killed his first man, almost lost his best friend, and now he was simply confused. 

/

Byleth sat up when she heard the tent rustle, knowing only one person would be lifting the back of the canvas than entered through the front flap.

“Is your arm going to be okay?” Claude asked as he climbed onto the sleeping cot next to her. Shamil, separated from his master since they were rescued, uncurled himself from Byleth’s pillow and leap into Claude’s arms. The wyvern made happy little chirps, covering the prince’s face in licks with his rough tongue.

“It will be,” Byleth answered, glaring down at the sling that cradled her arm. “I’ll have to wear this for at least a week.”

Claude winced for her, shoving Shamil down. Shamil, however, was not about to be stopped, and ended up licking Claude’s eyeball. “Ugh, Shamil! Yes, I love you too. Please calm down!”

Shamil whined, but settled for curling up around Claude’s neck, giving occasion licks to Claude’s cheek. Byleth covered her mouth with her good hand, stifling a giggle. Claude’s eyes went wide, and he stared at her as if he had never seen her before.

“What?” Byleth asked, hand dropping away from her face.

“I’ve never heard you giggle before,” Claude said in wonder. 

“It’s not that strange,” Byleth muttered, suddenly feeling uncomfortable under his gaze.

Claude was silent for a moment, before apparently deciding to let the topic go. (At least for the moment. Byleth had no doubt it would come back around sooner or later.) “I think someone organized those tribesmen against us. For the most part, my father has left them alone. And I don’t think they’re stupid enough to attack a fully armed royal contingent unless encouraged, even with a mad wyvern on the loose to distract us.”

“You’re so sure they were tribesmen and not mere bandits,” Byleth pointed out, before quietly waiting for an answer to her statement.

“It was the man who led the ones that attacked us by the river, I smelled his breath when he tried to strangle me,” Claude explained quietly. “The tribes to the southeast brew a special beer, supposedly very strong, that leaves the drinker’s breath smelling of day old flowers. It’s exactly what his breath smelt like.”

“But he isn’t a tribesman,” Byleth counted. “So, you think he is part of those who organized the effort?”

Claude nodded, stroking Shamil’s snout. “Not a very important part. They never would have let anyone like that be put in a position to get caught.”

Byleth nodded back in agreement. “So, what are we going to do about it?”

“Well,” Claude said evenly as he curled on the cot beside her, “we need to figure out who is willing to attack us, and who might have influence over the southern tribes.”

Byleth frowned as she settled in beside him. “I feel like there will be more overlap between the two than you are expecting.”

Claude shrugged. “Probably, but it’s a place to start. And we’ll keep an ear out for anything Goli and her crew might find from the man they brought in.” He sighed, unconsciously leaning into Byleth’s warmth. “It’s too much to hope it’s simply my uncle and stupid cousin, isn’t it?”

“Probably,” Byleth answered simply. “And if it was, Kadir is too smart to leave any trace of his involvement. Keveh might let something slip, but Kadir isn’t about to entrust anything like that to his son just yet.”

Claude sighed again and closed his eyes. Byleth stared at him for a moment, letting the silence of the night linger around them, before reaching out to pet Shamil. “Are you really okay?” she asked.

Claude’s eyes opened slowly, looking much too serious for a boy so young. Byleth knew the answer before he spoke. “Was that the first time you’ve killed someone?”

“Yes,” she answered with her usual straightforwardness. 

“It feels...odd,” Claude continued after a long silence. “I don’t feel bad that he’s dead, but it doesn’t feel like it all the stories we’ve been told. So many warriors come home and brag about how many enemies died upon their blades. It’s this grand thing, something to be celebrated.” He paused again, twisting the corner of her blanket as he gathered his thoughts. “What if they’re right? What if my Fódlan blood makes me weak?”

“If you were weak, you would not have done what needed to be done today,” Byleth pointed out. “You’re blood has nothing to do with that. And besides, what would your mother say if she heard you insinuating she was weak?”

Claude blanched at the idea of an upset Odette. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that the woman was unmatched when it came to weilding an axe. “What about you?” Claude asked. “You don’t seem upset that I insinuated the same thing about you.”

Byleth tried to shrug, but winced as pain lanced through her right side. “I know you don’t think I’m weak. You’ve looked up to me for years now.”

She could not be sure with how dark it was in the tent, but Byleth was pretty sure Claude was blushing. “Oh, shut up,” he mumbled into her pillow, turning to bury his face.

“Claude? Are you in here?” Odette’s voice came from the front of the tent. A moment later the flap was thrown open and the Queen entered, raising a lantern for light. She frowned softly when she caught sight of the two of them curled up together, but there was a kindness in her eyes as she walked to the cot. “Claude,” she whispered, brushing his hair back with gentle fingers, “if I let you stay here will you promise to get some rest?”

“Yes, maman,” Claude answered. His mouth opened in a large yawn for extra effect.

Odette just shook her head, leaning down to kiss her son’s forehead. “Just this once,” she whispered. 

“Thank you,” Claude answered back, which only caused Odette’s smile to turn sly.

“Don’t thank me just yet,” she teased. “I’m not the one who will have to deal with Nader’s snoring all night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the worst case of hiccups trying to edit this. I feel like I caused more typos than actually fixing them. XD
> 
> Next chapter I will have a link to a list of all the ocs appearing in this fic. I know I'm introducing at least one or two a chapter, so I wanted to give you guys a convenient way to reference everyone.


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